Return to Mobius
by Stan Alda
Summary: A veritable "Where Are They Now?" of Sonic's characters, now that Sonic Unleashed and Colors have trimmed the cast down...for the time being. Updates irregular; rated T for suggestive themes and occasional profanity. Read and review.
1. Interview

_** This began as a free-writing exercise, but developed into something...more. I decided to do a series of mostly unrelated chapters based on this question: Where are they [the "other" Sonic characters] now? After all, the past few main games feature Sonic—and only Sonic—as a playable character. In addition, they only use 2 or 3 side characters: Tails, Amy, and whatever annoying...thing with which DIMPs has decided to torment us. As a result, the others have quite a bit of downtime, as these chapters will show.**_

_**Note that I'll only feature the comparatively popular characters (sorry, Bark), and I won't take requests. The name is a reference to Buzz Aldrin's memoir **_**Return to Earth****_, which detailed his depression after the moon landing in 1969. But I digress..._**

_**Read on...if you dare...**_

* * *

"You wanted to see me?" It was Rouge's first meeting with her potential employer. Needless to say, the bat-girl was sweating bullets. She had never done anything like this before—at least, not according to her resume...

"Ah yes, Miss Rouge. Please, have a seat." Rouge sat down quickly, happy to get off her feet for a while. "Shall we get to business? I have seen your resume; it is...interesting. I'm curious as to why you listed your previous occupations as 'jewel thief' and 'G.U.N. field agent'." her boss remarked. Rouge turned defensive, as she always would when accused.

"I try to play aboveboard when getting a new job. Honesty is one of the 10 major traits of highly successful people, after all," Rouge snapped. "And, of course, you've had your fair share of highly successful people. I want to join the club."

"Of course, Rouge, that's only fair. I'm still not sure why you would admit to two major crimes on a resume...but that's beside the point. Now, why did you apply for this position?" the interviewer asked.

Rouge decided to lay some business mumbo-jumbo on the interviewer to throw him off guard. "Both of my previous jobs were in the same basic field. I wanted to, um, _diversify my skill set_." The interviewer was not fazed.

"That's a common misconception. While it is nice to be versatile in your capabilities, it is better, from a business standpoint, to find the job you are best at and specialize in it. Shaquille O'Neal may be a _decent_ cook, race-car driver, magician, etc—at least, that's what you'd think when you watch that show of his—but it's most profitable for him to remain a basketball player, no matter what the ABC executives say," the executive explained, chuckling at the latter part. "Why are you switching over from espionage?"

Rouge stood firm. "I'm a spy, but I'm also a woman; and I am sometimes discriminated against. I am, after all, in James Bond's line of work. Playing on the other side of the law isn't too easy either. But here, I know I'm safe."

The employer, much to Rouge's surprise, grabbed a file and opened it. "Did you think we would_ hire a known spy/jewel thief without doing a background check?_ Well, we have. Your history is _interesting_...to say the least." Rouge's eyes nearly popped out of her head when she saw the photographs.

"_My god_! Where did you get those?" The employer chuckled knowingly. "Well? Where did you get those photos?" Rouge quivered in apoplectic fury. It was as if she had been detected on a heist, like she had been compromised on a mission...

"It's amazing what you can find on the Internet...say, those guys look kind of familiar..." The interviewer's train of thought seemingly derailed.

Rouge desperately tried to rationalize her predicament. "Well, I mean, Knuckie's a nice guy, and Sonic's pretty cool, too, but..." She blushed as if she had been caught passing love letters in an elementary school; she was especially embarrassed by the use of the name "Knuckie". Worry about her apparent lack of professionalism filled her mind, and her nervousness grew to "virgin in a whorehouse" level.

The boss chuckled once more, much to Rouge's chagrin. "No, no, you misunderstand. This is exactly what we are looking for! Too many in our profession are new to the job, but you—you have previous experience! We're looking for people with knowledge in this field, and you've clearly got it. You're a natural. Hell, you're better than Mai Valentine!"

Rouge's fear and frustration turned to arrogance in the blink of an eye and her blush faded. "You're right I'm better than her! She's an artificial, air-headed tramp. I've got _standards_." Despite her angry, defensive tone (or, rather, because of it), she was more worried than ever about her unprofessional attitude.

"Whoa, whoa, I'd calm down if I were you. This is a _job_ _interview_, remember?" the interviewer reminded. "Nonetheless, you do have a point. No, I think you're pretty well qualified for this job..."

Rouge's emotions settled back into 1st gear. "All right then...about the uniform..." She wanted to put the issue delicately, but couldn't think of a way to phrase her question correctly. She simply decided silence was golden.

The employer chuckled once more. "Oh, the uniform should be all right. Hell, you dress that way _daily_. Granted, your ears are pretty big, but that simply means you'll have to do without the headgear. I'm sure you can deal with that...right?"

The bat-girl decided she was satisfied. 99% of her questions were answered, but she had one last one for her new employer... "When should I call back?"

"Oh, don't worry, Miss Rouge. _We'll call you_. Don't you worry about it..."

"Thank you, Mr. Hefn-" The boss cut Rouge off mid-sentence.

"Please...call me _Hef_."


	2. Interruption

**_Rouge has an unexpected visitor, and he's looking to know her a little more deeply...cue the mood music!_**

**_Read on...if you dare..._**

* * *

_Thank god...an honest job! Or, at least, one that won't get me on some terrorist watch list..._ Rouge thought as she drove home from her interview. _Finally, a job where a woman like me can get some respect! Granted, it's not for the same reason as my other job, but so long as I don't need to look at my boss all day..._

She tried not to think in excess, as she saw potholes ahead—or more accurately, blast craters. These traps, unintentional as they were, came courtesy of the newly rebuilt Westopolis County Road Commission. Thanks to that immutable law of urban planning and maintenance, the timeliness of repairs was inversely proportional to the need for said repairs, despite logical protests such as "They're a public safety hazard" and "Someone's gonna end up driving into a traffic light to avoid these damn things". One (anonymous) letter to the editor of the _Westopolis Weekly _ started "They're a reminder of the Black Arms invasion, and their presence haunts me every day...the horror..."_ I'll bet Shadow wrote that one. He, of all people, would know_... Her car danced around the potholes with a grace uncannily like that of its owner.

When Rouge opened the door of her apartment, she noticed someone sitting at the table. "Hey! I think I know you!" the someone called. His argent white fur was hard to miss, even in the darkness of the apartment. Rouge turned on the lights, and saw a hedgehog with long, swept-down quills and large black boots.

"Great...another hedgehog. First black, then blue, now white," Rouge sighed. She turned to him and growled "What do you want?"

"I think I know you from somewhere! I think it was at a funeral or something. In fact, now that you mention a blue hedgehog..." the white hedgehog's train of thought slowed down, and he absentmindedly stared out the window of the high-rise.

Rouge maintained her stern glare. "Who, Sonic? At a funeral? Don't make me laugh. That freeloader doesn't care about the dead. Why would he be at a funeral?" She almost giggled at the preposterous thought.

The white hedgehog suddenly turned back to Rouge and shuddered in horror. "It was _his_ funeral. I could've sworn we met at Sonic's funeral..." He sunk into his chair; the role of "interrogator" and "interrogated" had completely reversed, and his mind scrambled to find memories and facts he could use to support his case.

Rouge grimaced, disgusted by her interrupter's apparent stupidity. "_But that's impossible! _Sonic never died. And we never met. Who are you anyway?" The hedgehog eagerly stuck out his hand, expecting a handshake.

"My name's Silver. I still swear we met at some point in time..." He smiled weakly, hoping to squeeze some sort of positive response out of the bat. _This isn't going anywhere_, he muttered.

However, Rouge's suspension of disbelief failed, and her strained smile collapsed into a angry frown. "Shut up. We never met, and I don't want to meet you again. Now get out of my apartment _before I kick you in the balls_." She smiled darkly, showing Silver her sharp fangs, attempting to cow him into leaving. Silver suddenly stood up and pointed his finger at Rouge.

"I didn't provoke you. Why would you attack me? _That's unjust! I can't let you get away with that!_" A vase suddenly levitated and flew toward Rouge. "_Take THIS!_" Silver yelled, his voice cracking under the strain.

Rouge ducked and the vase smashed harmlessly into the wall behind her. She rolled her eyes and slapped her palm to her face. "_It's no use._ That voice of your suggests there aren't any balls for me to kick. Just get out of my apartment, fairy."

"_THAT'S JUST MEAN! Fairy? _I've had it! Your future will end in _flames of disaster_, I just know it!" The window opened, seemingly of its own accord, and Silver flew into the night sky.

Rouge snickered slightly. "_Flames of disaster?_ How does he expect anyone to take him seriously?"

As Silver hovered above the streets of Westopolis, he heard rapid gunshots and horrendous screams of pain. _Looks like I've got a mission..._he thought.


	3. Insolence

**_Hey, Silver fans! Did you take offense to that last one? Then you'll _HATE _this chapter._**

**_Read on...if you dare..._**

* * *

*BANG BANG BANG* _AUGH!_

"Cut!"

The "alien" laid on the ground, thrashing and flailing, until it gave up and laid limp. The director shot an angry, knowing stare at Shadow.

"_Shad_..._did you use live ammunition again?"_ The titular black hedgehog looked about sheepishly, a new tactic. Shadow had never considered himself cute (neither had anyone else), but decided to try it to see how it felt. The director was not convinced. His murderous growl continued. _"Shadow, we use blanks on set for_ _a REASON! _People aren't supposed to die during filming!"

Shadow, realizing the "cute" strategy had failed, resorted to his usual cynical scowl. "You said you wanted this to be realistic. The Black Arms didn't use blanks." He twirled his pistol, smiling smugly.

"But that doesn't mean YOU can use live rounds! They used lasers anyway!" the director huffed. "The effects department handles the lasers, and we supply you with blanks. USE THEM!" Having made his point, he slumped in his chair, grabbed a small towel, and wiped away the sweat. "Now...TAKE 17! _NO LIVE AMMUNITION!_" He glanced at Shadow, making sure he wasn't swapping the blanks for bullets again. The black hedgehog simply shrugged his shoulders and mounted his motorcycle.

Satisfied, the director grabbed his bullhorn and shouted "_ACTION!" _A million things happened at once. Propane jets fired, creating convincing flames on the street. "Black Arms" (the requisite men in rubber suits) prowled about, pulling the triggers on their prop guns. Shadow fired back, precise as a Parthian cavalry archer, until he noticed his tires weren't actually on the road. In fact, he was a good 15 feet off the ground. He looked about for the reason for his sudden levitation.

"I'm down here, you black murderer!" Shadow looked directly beneath him and saw the figure of Silver waving his arm at the motorcycle. "You won't get away with this!"

"_CUT!"_ The director ran up to Silver; very little was restraining the man from tackling him. "Who are you, and why are you on MY closed set?" Silver brushed him off.

"I'm going to bring this savage killer to JUSTICE! Heee..." His voice slowed and dropped an octave proportional to the suddenly slowed time. Shadow, with the speed and accuracy of a smart bomb, dropped from his bike and stomped on Silver's head. "Oooowwww..." Silver moaned as his brain ricocheted within his skull. Shadow, having had his fun, deactivated Chaos Control, his foot still on the unconscious Silver's head.

The director stood dumbstruck, jaw loose, staring at the sky. "What...in the name of every god in the universe...was _**THAT**__?" _Shadow shook his head condescendingly.

"I'm the _Ultimate Life Form_, you know. Manipulating space-time is nothing to me." His smugness increased exponentially; not only had he shown his true power to his boss, but he did it while deealing with a particularly annoying rival. _I could get used to show business_, the black blur thought.

With great trepidation, an extra crept behind the self-proclaimed Ultimate Life Form and tapped him on the shoulder. "Erm...Mr. Shadow...you might want to step back." Shadow looked up, but all too late. A few seconds later, the irony hit him like a falling Harley-Davidson.


	4. Invocation

**_As I've been writing, two common themes appeared in this work. For one, the character from one chapter makes a minor appearance in the next chapter. This done was intentionally, to preserve unity and to provide transition between chapters._**

**_The other, an unintentional one, is that the characters rather rudely insult the next character. Rouge, for example, called Mai Valentine a "tramp", and Silver a "fairy". Silver called Shadow a "black murderer". For the sake of unity, I will continue this trend, offensive as it may be._**

**_Read on...if you dare..._**

* * *

_Beep...beep...beep..._

His heart rate was stable, and his brain was miraculously intact, but Shadow was not going be moving any time soon. He lay on the gurney swaying between consciousness and unconsciousness; he felt like crap when conscious and obviously didn't feel anything at all while unconscious. He occasionally mumbled sour nothings, rambling incomprehensible verbal sludge that would be unspeakable curses if fully voiced. The doctor guessed those curses were directed at Silver, who lay totally insensate on the gurney beside Shadow.

The chief MD looked at the director's explanation of the events and boggled."You say the black hedgehog—"

"Shadow," the movie director clarified.

"—fell 15 feet and drove his foot into the white hedgehog's—"

"I don't know his name. Just some guy."

The MD did her best to avoid strangling the rude director. "...into the other hedgehog's skull. From where did...Shadow drop?" The doctor examined her notes, but shook her head in confusion.

The director thought a bit, then explained "From his motorcycle, doctor."

The doctor cocked an eyebrow. "He dropped 15 feet...from his motorcycle?" She decided to ask again, knowing the risk of receiving a ludicrous answer. "Where was his motorcycle at the time?"

"Uh...15 feet in the air, sir..." He stood shifting his weight from one leg to another, swaying like a soloist in a Baptist choir. "I think the...white guy was..._levitating_ it somehow. I called 'cut', so I didn't get any footage." He shrugged and smiled in a poor attempt at nonchalance; he was more concerned about any eavesdropping paparazzi. Shadow was hardly A-list, but his "Ultimate Life Form" image had won him legions of rabid fans. "Then, a little after Shad stomped the other guy, the bike stopped levitating and fell on him. It's...weird, I know..."

The doctor harrumphed slightly, then turned to the two hedgehogs. "I'd suggest getting a lawyer; this seems like a case of aggravated assault. From a medical standpoint, I can't think of what I could possibly—"

* * *

"Might I be able to help?" A yellowish echidna stood in the doorway and bowed gracefully. The doctor stared, bamboozled by the intruder. She seemed polite enough though, so she ushered the echidna in.

"I am sorry to intrude, but my name is Tikal. I might be able to heal these two men." She smiled with the smile of a Friend To All Living Things, a smile so warm and loving that it unnerved the doctor. Ordinary people aren't Friends To All Living Things.

The director's skepticism decided to make itself evident. "And how do you plan on doing that, young...lady? I can't tell the sexes with critters like you." Tikal ignored the uncomplimentary snap and simply bent above Shadow. "Feel my finger," she commanded Shadow. Shadow made no response. She poked him gently. Still nothing.

"Good," she intoned. Shadow twitched slightly, but not enough to be considered a conscious move. Tikal frowned slightly, but continued. She backed away from Shadow's head, approached it, went away from it again, approached closer, backed further, then moved to touch Shadow's skull and backed further. She followed Shadow's nerves with her finger, along the spine and down his arms and legs. "It appears a shock wave has locked within him. My powers can create a communication wave flowing in him." No such communication on Shadow's part followed, however.

The doctor and Shadow's director simply looked on in resignation, and the doctor finally sighed and admitted "Miss Tikal, I'm afraid you haven't helped."

"I understand." The ancient echidna princess bowed once more, then elegantly walked out the door. The doctor, in a flagrant disregard for proper bedside manner, left the room as well, and the director followed him.

30 seconds after they left, a blue IV bag not too far away from Shadow and Silver's gurneys stirred, and a pair of emerald eyes materialized in the blue goo. It sent a telepathic message via a frequency even Tikal could not perceive:

"_She's back? And she's a...Scientologist?"_

A hole roughly an inch in diameter popped in the bag, and the light blue fluid within slurped out. Shadow woke up long enough to see the viscous turquoise puddle quickly slither out the room and down the hall, but relapsed to catatonia before he could wonder why the blob was in fact moving.


End file.
